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Krooked Krik

We (the dog and I) spotted this driveway sign as we made our way to a dead end this morning. I don’t customarily seek out dead ends, but no other end, in this instance, was available. Why do we refer to these streets with no outlets as dead ends? They aren’t dead ends at all. One may simply retrace his steps, return to the embarkation point, and set out upon a different path.

There’s a story idea in the wind!

We also encountered a smallish brown turtle sporting an intricate brown shell with black markings. T.J. (the dog) picked the turtle up, but he didn’t bite. I promptly took the poor thing from him. There’s enough death on this fifty-five mile per hour highway; we certainly don’t want to add to that. (Actually, T.J. relishes the thought of adding to that, but I’m vigilant.)

Now that I’m in Northwest Louisiana, temporarily living with my parents, the dog and I walk each day. A long walk in the morning, and a shorter walk as the sun seeks out the horizon. I enjoy these walks, and my ancient dog walks with a spring in his step each time we head out. We’re constantly discovering.

Not once, since we’ve started these walks, have we passed another person on foot. Not even a child.

Imagine that.

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